Love has never been Cheryl Brigham’s plan. She’s not cut out for second dates, relationships, or happily ever afters.

All that changes when she’s on vacation in Paris. First dates lead to second dates, which leads to a whole lot more than she ever bargained for—but she knows it's all over when she returns home. That’s okay with her.

Until it’s not.

When it’s no-strings-attached, what will Cheryl do when her heart gets tangled up?

“I met a cute guy,” Cheryl blurted out.

“Already? That was quick.”

“It’s a gift. What can I say?” Cheryl replied as she unzipped her backpack.

“You can start with the details.”

“Well, it’s kind of your fault.” Sera rolled her eyes, the disbelief at Cheryl’s words evident. “Had you not haphazardly shoved that evil book in my backpack, it never would have accosted him as I walked by, and then I never would have shared a cab with him to my apartment.”

As Cheryl spoke, she unpacked some of her stuff, placing clothes in the tiny chest of drawers near the bed.

“Aren’t you tired as all get out?”

“Yeah, I am. But it’s kind of hard to sleep right now. I’m buzzing with excitement.”

“I’d be worried that you were sick if you didn’t buzz with excitement while you were in Paris.”

Cheryl shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of the reality of you and Destin getting engaged. Maybe it’s time for me to grow up.” Cheryl fiddled with the necklace she wore, three stones in varying shades of green, while on the computer Sera played with her own, though hers was blue.

“Stop it.” The edge in Sera’s tone caught Cheryl off guard. “You’re playing with your necklace.”

“See, that just proves how immature I am.”

“Shut up. I’m playing with mine too. I always do. But you wouldn’t have that necklace if you hadn’t done the most amazing, unselfish, mature thing anyone could ever do.”

“Aww, if my tear ducts worked, I’d cry.”

Sera laughed. “Your tear ducts work just fine. You just don’t let yourself feel anything. Which is fine, because that’s just you, and I love you for that. But don’t ever convince yourself that you’re not mature.”

“Okay, maybe mature wasn’t the right word.”

“Nope. Try again.”

Cheryl put her now-empty suitcase into the closet. “Maybe I hitched my wagon to the wrong star, and I’m chasing the wrong dreams. Maybe art isn’t what I’m supposed to do.”

“You are definitely jet-lagged because I’ve never heard you say such things. Please go to sleep and call me when my best friend has returned and kicked this insecure little brat to the curb.”

Randi has spent her entire life writing in one form or another. In fact, if she wasn't writing, she'd likely go completely and utterly insane. Her husband has learned to recognize when the voices are talking in her head and she needs some quality time with an empty Word file (the key to a successful marriage with a writer).

She lives with her husband, daughter, and four-legged children—all of which think they are people too.

A pop culture junkie, she has been known to have entire conversations in movie quotes and/or song lyrics.